hands up if you got a guilty conscience
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: They should have seen this coming, should have tried harder to stop it. But now Poppy and Minerva are left to hold up a school trying to hemorrhage its students, and it's hard.


Written for Hogwarts' Love In Motion Event: MinervaPoppy, the Mythology Assignment: Task #5 - Ares, God of War: Write a story set in wartime, the Writing Club - Disney Challenge: Aladdin - Write about a survivor, Book Club: Harold Lauder - (character) Severus Snape, (word) outcast, (action) betraying someone, Days of the Month: Pluto Day - Write about someone who is often overlooked or forgotten, Count Your Buttons: Minerva McGonagall, "Does s/he know?", Lyric Alley: I'm goin' no where, A Year in Entertainment: TV: House - (object) Cane, Television Show of the Month: Dr. Camille Saroyan: (AU) pathologist, (item) knife, (character) Madam Pomfrey, Serpent Day: Eyelash viper - (dialogue) "Come a little closer, darling.", the Insane House Challenge: Potion - Blood-Replenishing Potion, the 365 Prompts Challenge: Era - Trio.

 _Word count:_ 1606

* * *

 **hands up if you got a guilty conscience**

"Come a little closer, darling."

Minerva eyed the scene sadly, her fists clenched by her side with anger she couldn't afford to express at the moment.

(Later, though. Later, she'd rage and scream and curse the world for being so damned unfair.)

(And even later, she would let Poppy put her back together.)

Before her, Poppy sighed as she cleaned the last wound — the last _torture_ wound — on yet another student she should never have had to heal. Her lips were pursed thin as she advised the girl — a Slytherin, was there truly no child who would be safe here? — on proper wound care, but Poppy saw her blink away a tear when she was hugged in thanks.

But just as the girl stepped away, another took her place. It had been like this all night.

It was like like every night.

It was a Gryffindor this time, Minerva noted, her heart tight in her chest. Sonia Tseng. One of her lions, made outcasts and victims out of this war that raged on.

It was with a heavy heart that Minerva instantly saw that these wounds wouldn't be as easy of a fix as the last ones. There would be no Poppy merely waving her wand and saying a few words.

All across the girl's back laid an angry red slash, and despite Poppy's best efforts, it kept oozing blood. The girl's entire back was covered in it.

Horrified, Minerva realized that the girl's robes were soaked with it too, the fabric heavy as it hung off her lithe frame.

Her feet had carried her stepped forward before she had even realized it, and Minerva knelt in front of her student, uncaring for the discomfort it caused her.

Some things were far more important.

"Who did this?" she asked gently as Poppy tried some ointments on the wound.

The girl, pale and shaking, only shook her head, keeping her lips clenched tight.

"It was the Carrows." Neville's voice startled her and she rose her head.

He looked exhausted, but at least for once he wasn't bleeding. Small mercies.

"Who else?" he huffed with a humorless laugh. "She's the worst of it, though," he said, offering the girl a kind smile.

Amazingly enough, Sonia seemed to bloom under the attention, giving Neville a wide grin where she had stayed stone-faced for Minerva and Poppy.

"I did good?" she asked, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

"You did," Neville reassured her. Pain flashed through his eyes when Sonia just grinned harder, but he schooled his face quickly before addressing Poppy. "Can you help her?"

Poppy grimaced grimly. "I can," she started, but Minerva knew her well enough to realize that a but was coming soon.

It hurt to see that Neville had become familiar with that face too as a shadow fell over his face.

"What do you need?" he asked.

Poppy looked, if possible, even more grim now. "The knife that did this," she said, each word falling from her mouth like a death knell. "It's cursed, but with it, I can reverse it, help her heal."

"You'll get it," Neville said, voice raw, before he left.

They watched him go sombrely, Poppy leaning closer and closer to Minerva until her left hand hovered just above her shoulders, just close enough for Minerva to feel the heat of it.

With a pained sigh, Minerva stood up. "He'll be fine, you'll see," she told her student.

Sonia nodded, eyes blazing with conviction. "Duh," she said. "Of course he will be. He's _Neville Longbottom_."

Minerva's lips quirked up in a half-smile — the first in what felt like forever — at the worship audible in the girl's voice.

"Of course he will," Poppy repeated. "He'll be back soon — but before he does, why don't you take these and rest for a bit?"

In her hands, Minerva recognized the particular hues of a Blood-Replenishing potion and of Dreamless Sleep, and her heart went out to Poppy, this formidable woman who never stopped caring.

(There was no way she was allowed to give those potions to a student. The Carrows would never allow it, and Poppy wasn't safe from their retribution. No one was.

And yet, Minerva rather thought that if anyone asked Poppy, they'd find that those potions had simply mysteriously vanished. Or that they'd never existed in the first place.

Sometimes, it was good to have a former Slytherin on your side.)

Minerva conjured a bed — it was lucky they were the only ones left in her office now, because with the bed it got crowded very quickly, and her extension charms had a tendency to collapse at unfortunate times — and together with Poppy they laid the young Gryffindor on her stomach, mindful not to aggravate her wounds.

Still, just moving her caused the flow to flow more abundantly, its sharp coppery smell filling Minerva's nostrils, making her want to gag.

She was embarrassedly glad when they were able to move away from the girl a little, retreating at the other corner of the room.

"Does he know?" Poppy asked in an urgent whisper once they had. Her eyes were blazing with anger, and honestly, Minerva didn't blame her. She too wanted to rage at something right now.

But she only laughed bitterly. It wasn't hard to figure out who the 'he' in question was. There was only one man Poppy could be referring to, really. Severus.

"Know?" she said, voice sharp as a knife. "Of course he does. If anything, he's probably encouraging it."

After so many years spent defending him against angry students, it felt odd to speak ill of Severus. Even now, even after _Albus_ , she couldn't stop thinking about the good moments they'd shared, back when Severus wasn't so bitter over everything.

There had been good moments. Perhaps that was the worst thing about all this. There had been good moments, where Severus had been as much of a friend as he was a colleague.

His betrayal wouldn't have hurt nearly as much if he had been just a colleague.

Poppy sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I had hoped…"

Minerva reached out, taking Poppy's callused hand in hers and squeezing it gently. "Yes, I know. Me too."

They should have known. Should have seen, should have noticed _something_. But they hadn't, and now Hogwarts was a mockery of everything it used to be, and it was their faults.

They should have done more.

They should be doing more.

And yet they couldn't. The students were safer than them, as sad as that was when they could get tortured for no reason.

Because they could get tortured, yes, but at least they wouldn't die.

And Hogwarts already held enough Death Eaters. They couldn't afford to pave the way for more to invade.

.

They waited in silence for Neville's return, Poppy watching Sonia's breathing quietly while Minerva watched her, thumb running slow circles against Poppy's skin.

"We'll survive this," someone whispered. With a start, Minerva realized that it had been her.

Poppy hummed her agreement softly. "Yeah, but what about them?" she asked, nodding in Sonia's direction. But she wasn't talking just about Sonia. She was talking about all the students in this castle, all the children they had sworn to protect.

"They'll be fine," Minerva replied, eyes trained on Sonia. Lying like this, in Minerva's conjured bed, she looked so small. So young.

Too young to have a place in this war, and yet here she was, part of it anyway.

Here they all were.

"They probably have a better chance of making it than us old crones," she half-joked with a soft huff of laughter.

Poppy bumped their shoulders together. "You know I don't think of you as an 'old crone'."

"I know."

Their conversation was interrupted as the doors swung open, loudly crashing against the walls.

Minerva was up faster than she'd been in years, wand trained on the intruder.

She let it fall down with a loud sigh. "Mr. Longbottom! A little more warning next time would be nice! We'll be lucky if that didn't wake up half the castle."

"Don't worry," Neville replied, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "There isn't anyone to wake up, and everyone's busy with… other things anyway."

He sobered up and held out a parcel wrapped in off-white chiffon for Poppy. "I got the knife, but they'll notice it's missing," he warned them. "Can you help her?"

Neville stared at them, grip tight around his precious package. There was no doubt in Minerva's mind that if they told him they couldn't do it, he would leave to find someone who would, no matter what. Minerva felt a surge of pride at the thought — when had this boy turned into a man?

But he wouldn't have to. Poppy reached out for the parcel, gently extracting it from Neville's grip and unwrapping it carefully. Slowly, she unveiled a dark, engraved blade that cast shivers down Minerva's spine.

Poppy rose her head slowly. Her eyes drifted toward Minerva, and she gave her a smile full of sad determination.

"I can do it," she declared. Her fingers wrapped around the knife. "I can undo this — but I'm going to need some space," she added, glaring at Neville until he backed away.

Surprised, Minerva let out a bark of laughter. She felt a warmth spread down her chest as she watched Poppy get to work.

This, she thought. This was the woman she loved, doing the thing she was the best at — saving people.


End file.
